


The Meaning Of Galliardas

by GypsumLilac



Category: Undertale
Genre: Crack, Flowers don't have souls, Game not ready yet, Interactive Fiction, Just having fun with Twine, Loosely inspired by SillyMillyXD's "Pieces", Multi, No Angst, Not taken seriously at all, That time you were reincarnated as a flower, This is just the pre-game fiction, Twine, Will you start a flower family with Flowey?, You're a flower, eventually, who knows...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 11:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17827604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsumLilac/pseuds/GypsumLilac
Summary: When I first wrote this, a long time ago, I was inspired by the stereotypical "wakes up to alarm clock" beginning that so many fics take.Also I don't remember if I wrote this before or after reading "Pieces" by SillyMillyXD, so since they did the whole "protagonist is a soulless flower" first and did a damn good job of it, I'm assuming I was inspired by their story.





	1. Echo

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pieces](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5554706) by [SillyMillyXD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyMillyXD/pseuds/SillyMillyXD). 



> So it begins...

The familiar buzz of your alarm clock echoes around you with a distinctly unfamiliar resonance. You groan and slam the clock's button. It starts beeping. Faster. A countdown. You throw it hurriedly away and tumble behind a trashcan. It clinks at least ten meters away. A scream is cut off by the sudden boom of fire and screeching metal that billows from the street. In the alley, you peek out from behind your trashcan, expecting to see carnage.    
  
But nobody's there.    
  
You creep cautiously out of the alley. The only sign of the bomb is a charcoal imprint seared into the sidewalk. It shifts and wiggles. You turn and run away. The buildings flash past you in a haze of clouds and racing shadows. Faster till the buildings turn to trees and the road is made of dirt and stick. Faster till the shadows catch you and drag you down into the rising dust. You fall.    
  
"Ha!!" The dark room is yours. The blankets surrounding you are yours. The bed underneath you is yours. It's real. All real. You're okay. The knowledge comes with a fleeting sense of confused relief.   
  
You curl up and try to go back to sleep, focusing on puppy dogs and unicorns. Maybe that will keep the weird dream away... you normally like weird dreams...   
  
The shadows drag you kicking and screaming down through the hole filled with silvery dust. You don't want to drown... Can't... breathe....   
  
Puppies and unicorns. Puppies eating rats. Kittens tearing birds apart. Unicorns goring lions. Nice. Happy. Thoughts.    
  
Your lungs burn as silvery dust clogs your mouth and throat. Flailing your arms only speeds the suffocating descent. You give up. The shadows wrapped around your legs drag you down through the burning dust. Then they vanish. Your lungs hack the dust out of themselves, racking your body as you fall through a void. You'll wake up any second now. Your brain will sense you falling and jerk you back to the real world.    
  
You don't know how long you've been falling. It could be a second. Or it could be years.    
  
You try to redirect the dream. You try to form doors, a transition, anything. You believe wholeheartedly that they will appear. Is the second of doubt enough to dispel them? The constructs don't even flicker into existence.    
  
You    
fall.    
  
You    
fall.    
  
You    
fall.    
  
You    
land.   
  
The familiar buzz of your alarm clock echoes around you with a distinctly unfamiliar resonance. You jump up and run away from it. The buzz turns to beeping. The beeping quickens. You run but the beeping of its countdown follows you. 

Your scream is cut off by the sudden boom of fire and screeching metal that lifts and throws your body as if it were as sturdy as a ragdoll's. A charred imprint covers you in glowing  streaks and dots of burning embers. The shadow it colors twirls and suffocates you in black fog.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is building up to the chapter where there will be a link leading to the interactive fiction. It's not ready yet :P


	2. Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure yet how the IF will be formatted, I'm thinking there will be five Very Important Choices, and the rest of the choices alter some dialogue/some relationship points, but the VICs control the direction of the game. That way it's like a written fiction but also like a game. This is slightly bigger than my previous game, "Puzzles Or Die, Darling~" and I'm hoping people will enjoy it :D

The familiar buzz of your alarm clo-  
You scream and kick out blindly at the sound.   
  
The alarm clock cracks on the floor and is silent. Your lungs thump as they suck air and burn adrenaline through your bones. The blankets are suffocating you. You cast them hurriedly away and sit up. The room is yours. But not yours. The undefinable difference hurts your eyes and you clench them shut.   
  
It's your imagination. Just your imagination. Residual fear from the dream affecting you in real life. You start to pinch yourself... but that won't work, will it. The dream hurt, after all.   
  
When you finally manage to convince yourself that you're not still dreaming and that everything's okay, and after you've gotten yourself ready for the day, you step out of the apartment complex into the streets boiling with humans traveling to and fro in honking cars or on foot and walk to your job at the MacAnglis fast food restaurant. There's a lot of wildly costumed people on the streets today, there must be a con in town. Maybe you'll go.   
  
...Wait... MacAnglis... isn't what it's called... is it...?   
  
But it is. The sign says so. You greet the worker, someone new, with a wave and start to clock in. The man blocks you with an arm and a glare. You glare back. "I work here, newbie."     
  
"Kid, I'm the GM here. And I never seen you before. So buy something or scram 'for I call the police."   
  
This is wrong. All wrong. GMs don't just disappear and be replaced by someone too incompetent to know who works for them. You try to argue your case, but the confused stuttering mess that leaves your mouth only makes the guy madder.   
  
He picks up his phone and dials a number. You plead with him to check the schedule. He shows it to you. You aren't on it anywhere. The police are coming.   
  
You run. A twisting sense of wrongness follows you. You blend with the crowd and let it carry you away through streets and boulevards. All of them right and yet not right. There aren't any signs for any convention. The costumed people are just going about their lives, ignored by all the regular people.   
  
You're still dreaming. That's the only explanation. You're still dreaming.   
  
If you're only dreaming, that explains the thick-set golden-maned humongous goat-dude watering a bush outside a quaint tea-and-flower shop. Because there's no way a costumed tail can swish like a real tail, like his tail is doing.   
  
He looks familiar. Like... you've seen him before... in another life...? The wrongness doesn't surround him like it does the rest of the city.   
  
You roll your shoulders back and stride confidently towards the goat-dude. He really does have a magnificent mane and beard. And a curled set of horns that springs out from the gold. And an adorable muzzle...  you know him.

  
"Hi!" You wave cheerily at him and he looks up at you. His eyes meet yours and a pulsing white-feeling warmth fills your chest. "Nice flowers! Also your mane is really cute." You wink at him and stick your tongue out to ruin the flirty effect.   
  
The fuzzy white fur on his muzzle glows red. "H-howdy, you like my flowers? Would you care to have tea with me?" Asgore Dreemurr. King. Likes tea and gardening... declared war on humans... and killed someone repeatedly...   
  
"Sure!" You grin and follow him into the shop. "Wow, nice place you've got here. Almost as nice as yourself." You wink again. He's not that person, you just met him. This fluffy guy doesn't seem cruel. Cute, yeah... not cruel.   
  
Asgore sits you down on a cushion at a low table. "Thank you." You watch him brew the tea with flames he formed with his hand. "Cool! Can I learn how to do that?" Asgore frowns.   
  
"Humans have not developed the ability to form fire or any bullets at all." He states and sips his tea. You sip yours sedately before giggling and almost choking on the thought that popped into your head.   
  
"Asgore," you say, and his eyebrows raise, "this tea quenches most of my thirst. Most of it." You wink again and break down in laughter.   
  
"It is not polite to mock an old man." He says in a sadly stern sort of way.   
  
"O-oh, no, no, I was trying to flirt. Sorry..." Poor guy. "I don't mean anything by it, I was just..." just what, having fun? You didn't know he'd be offended by it. The warmth curls into an odd ache.   
  
"Oh, that is quite alright. I used to be quite the flirt myself. It... always made people laugh for some reason though..."   
  
"Wanna try on me?" You wink.   
  
"These flowers are put to shame by the radiance of your eyes." Asgore squints one eye in an attempted wink.   
  
Heat flushes your neck and cheeks. Your chest does a weird flutter. "U-uh, thanks. Y-your... mane is like the... wild wheat grass that waves in fields under the, uh, sun."   
  
"The clothes you wear are sheet coverings for a work of art." He's taking this seriously... you have to dispel it with your own cheesy lines!   
  
"Your robes only shield us from the regality you bear inside." You poshly sip the tea, making sure to indicate you are not taking this seriously at all. He's so sweet, though...   
  
"Your nose is as delicate as the finest tea." He burns you with his eyes. Not meant for you. He sees someone else.   
  
"Your muzzle deserves lots of sloppy puppy-dog kisses." You fumble and send him finger guns. "And your wife is the luckiest lady alive."   
  
Asgore freezes.   
  
"Your wife? You know, the one you really want to say all these lines to? You can steal mine for her, I don't mind."   
  
"How did you know that I am married?"   
  
"I could see it in your eyes. You weren't really talking to me." You pat his shoulder.   
  
Asgore's great big head shakes in despair. "She will never accept my advances again. I did something unforgivable even if it was for all the right reasons. She was right to leave me."   
  
"So you two have talked? And she said she'd never love you again?"   
  
"Ye- not exactly..." Asgore sighs. "But she might as well have."   
  
"As long as there's a loophole, there's a chance." You intone sagely. "You need a hug, fluffy guy!" Asgore submits to be hugged, even returning it with his own large furry arms. You pull away and pat his shoulder. "Can I buy some flowers, now?"   
  
Asgore wipes his eyes and tells you to take a bouquet for free. You choose one filled with large boldly-colored flowers because it reminds you of something.   
  
The sense of wrongness returns when you step back into the streets. Asgore tends to his flowers, the only oasis of warm rightness. But you can't stay.   
  
Your feet wander to a store, a chain wholesale store called Valstar. It's not really called that, but it is. The wrongness swirls around the name.   
  
Inside Valstar, you wander the aisles of food and clothes and other stuff until a loud crash calls you to the pasta aisle.   
  
A tall lich stands distraught by a broken jar of tomato paste. You hurry to him and push the flowers into his hands before grabbing another jar of paste and smashing it onto the ground. He stares at you in confusion. You give him a wink and grab another jar off the shelf just as a haggard employee rounds the corner.   
The poor guy stares at the spill, distraught, then glares at you. Excitement floods your bones. "Sorry," you say jauntily, "they slipped."   
  
The lich grabs your arm and removes the jar from you. His grey coat and suit pants are splattered with the red paste. "I APOLOGIZE FOR THE BEHAVIOR OF THE HUMAN THAT I JUST MET, AND I WILL PAY FOR THE JARS, SO PLEASE DO NOT HOLD IT AGAINST THEM. THEY APPARENTLY HAVE AN ISSUE WITH IMPULSE CONTROL." The excitement sparks with offense.   
  
"Hey, I-" Papyrus frowns sternly. "Uh, definitely do have a problem... with... impulse control?" You do not! You have great impulses! And great control! In your dreams, that is... which this has to be.   
  
"I'll say..." the employee mutters, but flashes Papyrus a grateful smile.   
  
Your hand sneaks around another jar, a mischievous light in your eyes. Papyrus smacks your hand away. "Ow, hey! I wasn't going to throw it at the floor!" No, you would have thrown it at the ceiling. And then run.   
  
"Please, leave and let me clean your mess." The employee really does have the patience of a saint.   
  
Papyrus turns and walks away and you trot after him with one hand still in his. "Soooo... does this mean you'll go on a date with me?" The lich stops dead in the aisle and his cheekbones turn pink. So cute!!   
  
"Y-YOU ARE PROPOSING WE DO A FUN ACTIVITY TOGETHER? B-BUT WE JUST MET! HUMAN, THE BLOSSOM OF YOUR ARDOUR BLOOMED SO QUICKLY... AND I DO NOT FEEL THE SAME WAY FOR YOU." He drops your hand. The rosy excitement in your chest thumps.   
  
"That's okay." You bounce on your toes and grin at him. "I was kidding anyway, I'm not enamored with you yet."   
  
"YOU SHOULD NOT DENY HAVING THESE ARDENT FEELINGS, HOWEVER I RESPOND TO THEM. IT IS UNSURPRISING, EXPECTED EVEN, THAT A HANDSOME SKELETON SUCH AS MYSELF WOULD ATTRACT ADORING ATTENTIONS!! VERILY, I EXPECT A CLOUD OF ROSE PETALS SHALL SPRINKLE FROM THE CEILING TO SHOWER ME IN THEIR FRAGANCE."   
  
"...that can be arran-"   
  
"NO. MORE. VANDALISM."   
  
"Okay..."   
  
"HMMPH. I MUST BE OFF TO MY HOUSE NOW WITH THE GROCERIES. TOMORROW, IN THE PARK, AT THREE. HANGOUT. FAREWELL, WEIRD HUMANS!!" Papyrus barrels down the aisles and out of sight. 

He really is something… but you have to keep moving. The wrongness has enveloped you once more with his absence.  Every bone beats with a hazy red fog. Concentrate. Step. Three more. Move. The sensible voice directs you. You obey. You stand up on shaky legs and walk out into the darkening streets.

"windows are a real pane to replace, aren't they." The wrongness vanishes with the low rumble behind you. But it isn't warmth that replaces it. Or adoring joy. A vague fear, a calm terror, instead. Sans stands beside you, a short and thick-boned lich with his hands deep in the pockets of a fluffy blue hoodie.   
  
"Y-yeah, I'll bet..."   
  
"welp, later." He disappears. You realize you prefer the calm terror of his presence to the pain of absence.   
  
You wander down roads. To a school. The garden is neatly trimmed. Monster children and human children kick a ball around under the watchful gaze of a regal goat-lady who could be Asgore's beardless clone. She smiles at you and a sense of awed sadness fills you. You sit down on the bench beside her.   
  
"Can I work here as a literature teacher?" You ask before you can stop yourself.     
  
The goat-lady hums thoughtfully. "I believe we do have an opening..." Toriel taps her chin, "But you will have to pass my test first."   
  
"Okay." The test will be a cinch. And you'll have a job!   
  
"Children! Recess is over." Toriel rises and shepherds her charges into the building. The void clamps back down on your chest, forcing you to curl up and grit your teeth. Your eyes and throat burn. Something is wrong.   
  
Walking helps alleviate the burning drive that isn't yours. But only when you walk in the right direction. If you disobey, burning pain spears you. The whole city is wrong. It shouldn't exist. Nothing should exist. You want to crush it!! Erase it!!   
  
No, no, you don't. People live here. You can't just kill them.   
  
Since when did you start pretending to care about people's lives?   
  
You stop still in the street. The crowd ignores you, flowing like water around an insignificant pebble that was picked up and thrown into it from another stream. You know what's wrong. This isn't your world. None of it is.   
  
Correct. You must be so proud for discovering this so quickly.   
  
Where are you, then?   
  
In another stream.   
  
Why?   
  
You sacrificed your soul. You aren't in any position to be asking idiotic questions.   
  
Fine. You'll just find another monster. For whatever reason. And then another? How many, huh? What are you here for?   
  
To rectify a mistake.   
  
...This is one weird dream. Whatever. It's better than that one about drowning in dust.   
  
"NGAAAAAHHH!!! YOU JUST MADE THE WORST MISTAKE OF YOUR PUNY LIVES, PUNKS!!" Undyne. You run, unadvisedly, towards the angry shout. It came from an alley, where three men with knives are getting their butts handed to them by a ferocious piscine lady with a flowing red warrior's wolftail on her head. You gaze on with a sick feeling of terrified admiration. The last man falls from her supplex and lays limply groaning on the ground. A single golden eye pierces you, a wild toothy grin twisting her face. You start to wave. Her boot lands in your ribs and your body cracks against the wall.   
  
"Owh-hh-ow..." Fingers clench around your throat and lift you into the air. "N-hh-not an- ene-myhhrhgh-"   
  
"I know that!" She grins. "But you look so familiar, I just had ta beat ya up!! Ya know, just in case!! Fuhuhuhu!!"   
  
"Pl-please d-don't-" Her grip and grin tightens.   
  
"No, I don't think you understand. You look REALLY familiar. The kind of familiar that infiltrates happy endings and spreads its poison everywhere. I don't CARE how innocent you seem right now. You make ONE WRONG MOVE?? And this'll be a picnic compared to what I'm gonna do to you." Undyne draws back a fist. The air huffs out of your lungs in a bile-filled gasp as the fist buries itself in your stomach. She then throws you to the other wall and kicks you out of the air onto the hard ground. "You want me to end this?? Fight back!! Let me see how strong you are!!"   
  
You stand up, pressed against the wall for support. The feeling in your chest is enjoying your pain immensely, even finding it hilarious.   
That alone makes you realize that you're completely screwed. So you do the sensible thing and run. The feeling turns to confusion when Undyne lets you go without even... turning you green?   
  
Nevermind that, you still have a few people left to meet.   
  
The feeling in your chest is still sadistic levity. The feeling burning in your ribs and stomach and throat and back is anything but.   
You run through the streets that aren't yours, past the people that shouldn't exist, down rows of unreal buildings. Into a large scientific building. Up stairs past confused whitecoats and into a lab filled with confusingly intricate machinery. A yellow dinosaur turns as you enter and shrinks down with a nervous smile. "Help me, please!" You plead. Someone grabs your arm, you screech and kick and bite. The guard lets go with a yelp. Electricity stiffens your body, stretching every muscle to its limit. You fall to the ground when the zapping current ends. "Pl-please, I d-don't know wh-where I am--"   
  
"S-stop." Alphys waves a commanding hand to someone behind you. "They a-are mine." Sharp hooks are torn out of your back and stomping steps fade away. Alphys wrings her hands. "I-I th-thought it w-would take you l-l-longer, Chara."   
  
Your mouth moves, words that you don't want to say coming out. "Obviously not. This vessel lacks intelligence. It believes it is still dreaming."   
  
The nightmare begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stil not there yet... the next chapter will have the link with the game when it's ready.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave a comment and/or kudos!! Thanks!!


End file.
